


Unstoppable, Immovable

by cassiem



Category: Block B
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-27
Updated: 2015-07-27
Packaged: 2018-04-11 13:57:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4438109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cassiem/pseuds/cassiem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jihoon is an unstoppable force, and Taeil is an immovable object, and their path is always to meet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. before

**Author's Note:**

> warnings: references to P.O's mental health

_**What happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object?** _

 

 _You tear me down and then you pick me up_  
_You take it all and still it’s not enough_  
_You try to tell me you can heal me_  
_But I’m still bleeding and you’ll be the death of me_  
[ _Red - Death of Me_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YipXUgLxqgw)

//

It’s that dream again.

He’s walking through a dim, empty hallway. It’s freezing, and he shivers uncontrollably, his teeth knocking together. He stumbles forward, step by step, fighting the cold that seeps into his bones, threatening to pull him down. Every step is harder than the last, and he’s gasping for air, desperately trying to pull oxygen into his lungs, when a light turns on further down the hall, and he sees a figure, bathed in its halo.

He squints, but can’t quite work out who it is; nevertheless, instinctively his legs start dragging him forward, step by exhausting step. But for every step he takes, the figure takes a step away; even as he musters every little modicum of strength he has he cannot reach them, eventually falling to his knees, collapsing in a heap, struggling to breathe.

And then the figure turns, and it’s Taeil, and suddenly he realises he knew that all along: who else would he be reaching for so furiously, yet could never grasp? The ghost-like figure of Taeil extends a hand to him, takes a step closer, and he’s so close he could reach out and _touch_ the older man –

And Taeil smiles, revealing a row of needle-sharp teeth and ink-black eyes, and Jihoon screams and screams and screams.

//

He sits bolt upright in bed, chest heaving, his whole body covered in a thin film of sweat. Panic surges through his veins and he clenches his fist, ready to come out swinging, but instead he’s greeted by Taeil, standing in the doorway to his room, a concerned look on his face and _definitely_ no fangs or black eyes.

“Did you have another nightmare, Jihoonie?” He asks, taking a step closer.

The use of that name sends a blade of white-hot pain straight through Jihoon’s chest and he swears when he looks down it’s there, he can _see_ the pain, but he blinks and it’s gone. Taeil has no right, no damn right to call him that, but _he_ doesn’t know that so Jihoon just looks up and smiles ruefully.

“Yeah.” He replies, running a hand over his chest self-consciously. He usually sleeps shirtless, but to his credit, Taeil’s eyes never dip below his neck once. Jihoon wishes they _would_.

Taeil sighs. “The same one again?”

Jihoon nods, embarrassed. The others all know about his nightmares (well, night _mare_ , really) and just think it’s a quirk. But Taeil seems genuinely concerned, thinks it’s a problem that needs fixing, when Jihoon just wants to forget it.

“Maybe you should see someone about it.” Taeil says, stepping closer and settling on the end of the bed. “You’ve been having it for years.”

Jihoon fights the urge to cover himself with the blanket and just dips his eyes and nods. “Thanks, hyung, but I’m okay. I’m just taking it easy.”

Unexpectedly, Taeil reaches forward and takes Jihoon’s hand in one of his little ones and smiles, and Jihoon can’t help but smile back: Taeil has that effect on him. His touch is having _other_ effects, too, sending shivers up and down his spine. He longs to touch Taeil’s face, but stills himself.

And as quickly as he came in, Taeil gets up and is gone, leaving Jihoon miserable, confused, and cold, the image of Taeil’s eyes, black as coal, glinting at him in the darkness, stamped in his mind.

//

“Again, Jihoon, Jesus Christ!” Jiho yells, and Jihoon cringes, shrinking back a little bit.

Jihoon pulls his headphones off and stares at Jiho through the glass. “I’m sorry, hyung, I know I’m not doing the best.”

They’re recording for their next studio album, and tensions are running high, as they always do. Jiho gets into a certain mode, a certain way of thinking, and honestly, it’s kind of scary sometimes. He never hesitates to rag on the others and point out, brutally, what they’re doing wrong. Jihoon _knows_ it’s because he loves Block B with all his heart, and he’s the best leader they could ask for, but damn if it isn’t taxing.

“A fucking _whale_ could sing better than you just did, Jihoon, and I know you’re better than that. Come on, I gave you singing parts because you promised you could do them, so just get them done.” Jiho snarls through the mic, before leaning back and saying something to Jiyong hyung, who laughs.

Jihoon just stares as the music starts over again and he flips his headphones back up. He couldn’t work out what Jiho was saying, only that he saw Jiho say something about “Taeil hyung” and _that_ hurts because he’s always under Taeil’s shadow, even now.

He closes his eyes, opens his mouth, and sings, pushing out the notes as to try and put Taeil out of his head.

//

He knows he shouldn’t do this, but it’s 3 am and he can’t sleep, so he replays all the moments in his head of when Taeil touched him, or _looked_ at him in the past week, and it’s absolutely, beautifully, torturous, as he lingers in what he can never have and what will never be.

He rolls over and buries his face in the pillow. Their fingers brushing when Taeil passed him a bowl of kimchi should _not_ be making him feel this way, Taeil giving him a back hug on stage should _not_ be making him feel this way, but it does and it has and here he is, desperate and sad in the middle of the night.

 _God_ , he can’t even remember when it started, it seems so long ago, now. Taeil’s just always sort of… _been_ there, been a comforting presence since the beginning. Maybe it’s when Minho left, taking a piece of Jihoon’s heart with him, and Taeil stepped in and cleaned up the mess, comforting them all quietly in his own special way. Maybe it’s when, when the Thailand scandal happened and he woke up in hospital, hating himself and full of thoughts that made him scared, Taeil was the one who was there, holding flowers, providing words and support where the others didn’t know how.

Somehow, slowly, over the years Jihoon has quietly fallen in love with Taeil, and now he’s stuck, loving the companionship that Taeil provides, but wanting _more_ – but at the same time not wanting anything to change.

He rolls back over and stares at the ceiling. It’s getting _really_ late now, and he really should sleep, but at the same time he dreads closing his eyes in case _it_ comes back, his awful nightmare.

It’s not always been Taeil. A few times, it was Minho, taunting him, drawing him closer and then running away. Sometimes it’s Jiho, eyes glowing scarlet in the darkness, his tongue a whip of cruelty, leaving welts that he swears he feels when he wakes up. But for the past few years, it’s always been Taeil, and it’s always been the same.

Still, his eyes are closing against his will, and tiredness has settled into his bones like an old friend, so he relents and lets go.

//

He’s crawling, the concrete underneath his knees scraping them painfully, but he knows somehow he must reach the end of his hallway, because at the end will be his salvation, he just _knows_ it. As he takes a huge, shuddering breath in and crawls another step, palms pressing into the rough ground, something suddenly becomes crystal clear to him: he will never reach the end.

He’s in this position, wheezing, arms struggling to hold him up, when a cold hand closes around the back of his neck and _pulls_ him upright, so he’s dangling by the scruff of the neck. It’s Taeil – of course it is, he knew it would be all along – and he’s as fearsome as ever, needle-sharp teeth glinting in the light, eyes black and deep, tongue forked like a snake’s. As he feels Taeil’s nails dig into the back of his neck, as Taeil hisses, a terrifying, otherworldly sound, Jihoon throws his arms wide – _Christo Redentor_ , he thinks – inviting the other man to take him.

But Taeil just _laughs_ , a demonic, deep noise that comes not from within his body but from the walls all around them - the whole hallway echoing with the noise, reverberating and bouncing around until he has to cover his ears, but even then that doesn’t stop it, it’s _inside_ him now, tearing apart his insides, and he knows now this is what it’s like to die. Even as Taeil’s forked tongue licks up his cheek, even as he feels Taeil’s nails slice open his belly, all he can feel is relief.

//

He rubs his eyes tiredly, ignoring the elbow that Yukwon jabs into his side – he’s so exhausted he doesn’t care that he’ll have to sit in the makeup chair again. Perhaps he’ll be able to get some sleep, quickly, while the makeup noona, Yujin (one of Jihoon’s favourites, because even though she’s a bit violent with the eyeliner, she always likes to joke along with him) chastises him.

They’re at some event, and usually he pays attention to these things and at least _attempts_ to show interest in his surroundings, but after his nightmare last night he had refused to let himself drift off to sleep, lest another nightmare make itself known, and he is paying for that stupid decision now. He doesn’t really know what they’re doing, or saying, so he just smiles and nods along, goofing off a few times to charm the fans, even though his eyes feel like they’ve been rubbed with sandpaper and his limbs are heavy.

The moment they turn and file off stage, Yujin grabs him by the sleeve and drags him to the chair. He slumps into it and leans back, closes his eyes and relaxes into the feeling of the makeup brush moving over his eyelids. Even when she wrenches open his eye to subject him to eyeliner again – he’s always been leery of things that close to his eyeball, no one told him that being an idol meant getting stabbed in the eye with mascara wands – he feels better sitting in a chair then he ever did standing up.

And then cool hands settle on his shoulders and he opens the other eye, blearily. It’s Taeil, smiling at him through the mirror as Jihoon flinches instinctively as the eyeliner goes perilously close to his pupil.

“Tired, Jihoonie?” Taeil grins, and Yujin glances up briefly at such a familiar, close nickname, one eyebrow raised.

Jihoon groans. “More than you’d know. I just want to fall into bed.”

Taeil leans down at that, his head resting on Jihoon’s shoulder, pressed cheek to cheek. It’s such an intimate position that Jihoon stills, his fist involuntarily clenching, making the leather on the makeup chair squeak. Even Yujin hesitates, her brush paused in the air, sensing the weight of the moment.

The hug – embrace? – lasts _slightly_ too long to be nothing but innocent and friendly, and as Taeil pulls back – possibly, maybe, reluctantly? – Yujin just stares at them, eyes narrowed as the cogs turn in her head as she tries to work out what’s going on.

She doesn’t get the chance to, however, because Jihoon and Taeil spring into action at the same moment, Jihoon leaping out of the chair and backing away slowly, apologising because Jiho _just_ called his name, and you know how Jiho gets when you make him wait, and Taeil just laughing.

They back out of the room and around the corner, where Taeil links his arm through Jihoon’s and looks up, his face open and happy. “You know she has a crush on you, right?”

Jihoon blinks. “No, she doesn’t. We’re just friends. She’s nice.”

Taeil snorts and drags him further down the hallway. “It’s really obvious. You’re so naive sometimes.”

That stings a little, but it’s abated by the fact that Taeil is here, linking arms with him and has _hugged_ him – no, not hugged him, _pressed_ his warm, soft cheek up against Jihoon’s own. He doesn’t know what the end goal is, because usually when Taeil wants something he gets physical, but whatever it is Jihoon usually ends up caving in and giving it to him.

Something about the way the older man stands on his tippy toes to look him in the eye, the way he pleads with Jihoon, his voice lilting up at the ends of his sentences, hands grasping at Jihoon’s shirt, always makes Jihoon relent.

And it’s the same today. Taeil looks up at him and smiles. “Can we go shopping, Jihoon?”

Jihoon sighs. What Taeil means by ‘go shopping’ is ‘please buy things for me on your father’s amex.’ And even though that card was for “ _emergencies only, Jihoon_ ”, the maknae always melts under Taeil’s gaze and ends up spending way more money on the older man then he should.

So he doesn’t even try to put up a fight. He just nods as Taeil pulls him back towards the others, a spring in his step now that he knows he gets to spend more time with Taeil, alone, even if it is within the perfectly safe confines of a shopping mall.

//

Taeil is flipping through a rack of shirts, his eyes scanning them expertly, picking out flaws with each cut, knowing what suits his body and what doesn’t. It’s easy for Jihoon to detach himself when Taeil is like this, intense and focused on something that _isn’t_ him.

As he leans against a pillar and watches the older man, a familiar melancholy settles over him like a familiar friend, soaking its way into his bones and winding its way down his throat, stretching through his limbs until his heart is heavy and his fists are clenched. He knows. He knows that Taeil doesn’t love him, doesn’t even _like_ him – not really. Jihoon is good for a laugh, he’s good for his money, he’s good for making Taeil look good and he’s good to string along. He’s certainly not good for a fuck, a kiss, a confession.

Perhaps the worst part about this, about the _knowing_ , is that it’s a two way street. He knows that Taeil knows how he feels. He knows that Taeil knows that Jihoon is in love with Taeil.

And Taeil doesn’t care.

Outwardly, he hasn’t moved, is still leaning against the pillar, but his shoulders have slumped and there’s a strange metallic taste in his mouth where he realises, absentmindedly, that he’s bitten his own tongue. But Taeil looks up and smiles at him, his grin splitting his face in two and making the sun shine out of his eyes, and Jihoon brightens, before self-awareness kicks in and he realises how utterly pathetic he is.

He’s in love with Taeil. There’s no getting around that fact. It’s something that has always been and always will be, like gravity, or the tides. It’s endless and unstoppable, and therein lies the catch, because Taeil is immovable, and no one really knows what happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object, do they? It’s a paradox, something that is destined not to be, _cannot_ be, and thus, so are they.

But still he moves towards the younger man and hugs him from behind, arms wrapping around Taeil’s deliciously broad shoulders, still he feels the weight in his chest lift as Taeil looks up and laughs, moves backward into Jihoon’s touch, even if his eyes are blank and there’s no emotion in his movements.

At this point, Jihoon will take whatever he can get.

//

The nightmare that night is different.

When he wakes – in the nightmare world, that is – he’s lying in someone’s lap, and their hands are playing with his hair, twisting strands gently, _soothingly_.

It’s such a shock that he shuts his eyes again. Surely this is just… a different dream? Maybe his subconscious is finally branching out, showing him everything there is to offer in dreams, but when he opens his eyes and sees the dingy, dirty hallway, as familiar as his home now, he realises no. It’s just changed.

And when he looks up, it’s Taeil stroking his hair lovingly, because _of course_ it is.

 _Immovable_.

Taeil’s got black eyes, and his fangs are out, but for once Jihoon isn’t terrified. The sight comforts him and he sighs in delight, knows what’s coming but doesn’t care.

So when Taeil bends his head to Jihoon’s neck, sinks his teeth in and bites, and the pain spears through Jihoon’s body, he revels in it, because at least he’s alive, at least there is _this_.

 _Unstoppable_.


	2. during

_Left me for dead inside my head_   
_Couldn't you see that I was still breathing?_   
_Screaming, I reached for you_   
_I couldn't get out from under_

_Where were you?_   
_I reached for you_   
_The pressure broke me down_   
[ _Out From Under - Red_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UUOxQMFq-oU)

//

This is how it ends, like this: with a whispered touch, an image that stays imprinted on the back of Jihoon’s eyelids no matter how many times he blinks, with a punch.

Yes, this is how it all begins to come undone.

//

It’s late at night and he’s awake, because insomnia and his nightmares seem to go hand in hand these days. Maybe it’s his unwillingness to sleep – he’s had two nightmares in one night before, and it's not fun – or perhaps it’s an inability. Regardless, that’s why he’s awake at 3:30 in the morning, and that’s why he hears the quiet _snick_ of the front door opening, hear’s Taeil’s voice.

It’s not uncommon for Taeil to get home this late; the man loves his alcohol and his noraebangs, so Jihoon just rolls over and continues to stare at the wall, his eyes drifting shut.

It’s not that he drifts off, exactly, it’s just that he closes his eyes and keeps them closed, and is suddenly awakened by what sounds like a shout.

Rubbing his eyes furiously, he looks at his phone. It’s only 3:43, so he had only been dozing for less than fifteen minutes, but still, it’s stupid of him, he can’t let himself fall back into that dream – which had left him feeling very conflicted when he woke up.

And then he hears the noise again – except now, with his brain not addled by sleep, he realises what the sound is. It’s not a shout, it’s a moan.

His first thought is that Yukwon has brought Sunhye back to the dorm, but then he remembers: Yukwon moved out into her apartment months ago. So, he theorises: one of the other members has brought a girl home. Who could it be?

He has absolutely nothing else to do now, so he starts ticking off the options in his head. Jaehyo? No, he is way too absorbed in his League of Legends training at the moment to even think about girls. All he thinks about is AD Carrys. It’s not Yukwon, could it be Minhyuk? Possibly, yes, but this is negated by the fact that Minhyuk is just about to move out, too, and his belongings are all packed up in boxes in his room, including his sheets – he’s sleeping on a bare mattress at the moment, and Minhyuk, as well-presented and groomed as he is, would never bring home a potential suitor to… _that_. Could it be Kyung then? Maybe, but the older man is asleep – their rooms are right next to each other, so Jihoon would be able to tell.

Before he can even get to the possibility that it’s Taeil, he gets up and moves into the hallway, listening for any telltale moaning – it’s incredibly nosy of him, yes, but his curiosity has piqued now and he won’t be able to get to sleep without knowing.

And then another noise. Except he recognises the speaker, and he recognises the word, and he freezes in place like he’s been shot.

“Taeil.” Jiho moans.

His heart starts up again, racing at a million miles an hour as he begins making excuses. It wasn’t what he heard, he’s dreaming, they’re playing a prank on him, anything but that, anything but the truth that’s staring him down, threatening to shatter the fragile peace he’s negotiated.

But no.

“Fucking – Jiho –” Taeil breathes, and Jihoon knows the tone he’s using _immediately_ because it’s the same tone of voice Taeil uses in his fantasies when he’s begging for Jihoon and that makes this all the more real.

Before he can stop himself, knowing that what he’s doing is possibly the stupidest thing he’s ever done in his life (and he has done a LOT of stupid things), he strides forward and flings open the door to Taeil’s bedroom.

They don’t notice him, at first – they’re too caught up in each other. They’re kneeling on the bed, facing each other – Jiho’s shirt is off, and Taeil’s is in the process, and the sight of their tattooed, pale bodies coming together is too much and Jihoon’s heart snaps in two.

Taeil kisses his way up Jiho’s neck, opens his eyes to look at his lover but spies Jihoon instead, standing in the doorway and quivering with hurt and rage, and it takes every little bit of self control Jihoon has not to stride over there and punch the both of them, respect be damned. He sees Taeil reach for him in slow motion, sees his lips move, starting to form the first syllable of his name, but he can’t watch as Jiho turns, too, his hand still resting possessively on Taeil’s hip, and he turns and runs, back to his room where he slams open his desk drawer, pawing through the contents hysterically. Eventually he finds what he’s looking for – the keys to his Mercedes, the same Mercedes that he’s legally not allowed to drive yet – and flees out the front door, not even bothering to grab his wallet, the fist around his heart clenching as he sobs.

//

“What the fuck was _that_?” Kyung asks, padding into Taeil’s room, staring at the ground. “Why did Jihoon leave while crying? What’s going – oh.” His sentence is punctuated by him looking up and seeing the others – still in their embrace, frozen.

He reads them carefully, reads the way Jiho’s grabbing Taeil, the way their shirts are on a crumpled pile on the floor, the way they’re too close to be friendly. He shakes his head and backs away. “You fucked up, Taeil.” He mutters.

 _Yes, I did,_ thinks Taeil.

//

As he drives, weaving in and out of traffic with courage he didn’t know he had, foot flat on the floor, he wonders if he should have seen this coming.

Taeil has never given any indication that he was gay, or at least liked men. Neither had Jiho. In fact, the two were, in his mind, the straightest people in the group; he would have picked Minhyuk to be gay before thinking about either of them. Especially since Taeil knows that Jihoon is in love with him – now he knows it’s not an inability to love him, but rather unwillingness; that makes it hurt all the more.

Logically, as he accelerates, feeling the car shift underneath him, rev counter spinning up, he knows that Taeil can’t help but love who he loves. Logically, he knows it’s ridiculous to be this upset.

But emotionally? Emotionally he asks whether they flaunted it in front of his face _deliberately_. Whether every little touch on stage, every hug they played up for the fans, was real. If when Taeil wasn’t spending time with him, he was – he was with Jiho, _Jiho’s_ hands trailing down his back, _Jiho’s_ lips on his neck, and then came running back to Jihoon, putting his hands all over him to get what he wanted.

He takes a hand off the steering wheel to wipe his eyes. Logically he also knows that he should turn around and go back to the dorm right this second, because if word gets out – and with their track record it undoubtedly will – that he was driving around without a license, _speeding_ around, he will be in big trouble.

He snorts bitterly. His father can always engineer something, press some money into the right hands – after all, isn’t that why Taeil was so close to him? For his father’s money?

He wrenches the steering wheel around a corner, feeling the back end spin out and his heart stop, certain he’s going to lose control, but the traction control kicks in and he continues down the empty street. Thank god that it’s early in the morning and there’s no one around to see; he’s never driven like this before, only knows that as his heart pounds and he shifts gear that driving like this, savagely and angry, is filling some hole in him that needs to be filled, is helping to erase the image of Taeil and Jiho that he can’t seem to forget.

He grits his teeth, shifts up, and puts his right foot flat on the floor, roaring away into the darkness.

//

It’s hours before he returns to the dorm – so long, in fact, that the sun is rising, and he knows that the others have noticed; his mobile phone hasn’t stopped vibrating since he left, but he hasn’t bothered to look.

Steeling himself in the elevator up to the dorm, he lets the rage flow through him, take control of his limbs, feeling eerily calm in the face of what he’s about to do. Something inside his mind has snapped, and he’s just running with it. He exits the elevator and punches in the code to the electronic lock, shoving the door open violently and stomping through to Taeil’s room, ignoring Kyung, hands outstretched; ignoring Minhyuk, mouth set in a grim line; ignoring Yukwon looking horrified; ignoring Jaehyo, who is on the phone babbling furiously, presumably to their manager.

And he strides into the room and punches Taeil square on the jaw.

//

He doesn’t properly remember what happened after that, it’s all kind of blurry, like someone’s tilted his worldview – it all doesn’t match up.

He remembers being pulled off Taeil by Jiho and Minhyuk, who had grabbed him around the waist; he remembers kicking and screaming hysterically, arms flailing, desperate to get to Taeil who was lying on the ground rubbing his jaw, eyes narrowed in disgust as he stared up at him.

He remembers Minhyuk hauling him away with the help of Yukwon, he remembers seeing Jaehyo in the corner, hand clenched around the phone so hard that his knuckles had turned white, he remembers Taeil getting up and rushing toward him, only to be intercepted by Jiho and Kyung, who struggled to hold him back as he roared.

And then they hauled him away, into his room, and he doesn’t remember much at all.


	3. after

_I stare into the blackness_  
 _It's staring back at me_  
 _Why did I try to live without you?_  
 _I want you_  
 _I need you_  
_[Red - Yours Again](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n36ZxB2ZlVc)_

 

//

He wakes and immediately the first thing he notices is his head pounding like he’s been hit with a brick. Wincing, he tries to sit up, but that just makes the pain worse, so he groans and flops backward.

But this is not his bedroom in the dorm. This is _different_ , this is bright and fluorescent and the sheets are scratchy on his legs and as he looks over and sees Kyung sitting in a chair next to the bed, a sinking feeling settles in his heart. This is hospital, and the last time he woke up here had been the worst time of his life – what has he done now?

Kyung sighs and reaches over to prop a pillow behind his head, lifting Jihoon by the armpits and pulling him into a sitting position easily, acting with a confidence that shows that he’s done this before. He waits until Jihoon settles before handing him a cup of water and sitting back down to speak. It’s odd to see him completely serious, not cracking jokes, and it just adds to the heavy atmosphere.

“Do you remember what happened?”

Jihoon picks at a thread on the thin hospital blanket with one hand, trying to ignore the plastic bracelet slipped around his wrist. It’s just a reminder of his shame. “I remember punching Taeil, but it all goes fuzzy after that.”

Kyung leans forward and Jihoon sees the concern in his eyes. “I don’t know whether to be straight with you, or sugarcoat it. But stop me if it gets too much, okay?

“The doctor said that… He said that episodes like this can happen sometimes if you get too emotionally overwhelmed, as well as if your physical health declines. You haven’t been sleeping, right?” He asks, shuffling closer to the bed.

Jihoon shakes his head and puts the plastic cup on the table next to the bed. “No.” He whispers. “The nightmares…”

Kyung shakes his head. “Those are a symptom, too. It all snowballed so when the… when you saw what you saw, it all just… snapped.

“The doctor wants you to put you back on your medication.” He warns, and Jihoon nods miserably. He knew it was coming – how could he not? – but he’d ignored it for as long as he could in the hopes that maybe, just maybe, this time it would get better. It’s not that he minds the medication, really – it just represents something more. That he’s sick.

“Damage control.” Kyung states, and Jihoon winces, retreating further into the bed; this is what he’s been dreading. “Your little escapade in your Mercedes went unnoticed by some small miracle so we don’t have to worry about that; but news has broken that you’re in hospital. SeSea is engineering a story about how you injured yourself physically so you don’t have to deal the fallout with – this.” He gestures vaguely in the region of Jihoon’s head.

“Jiho and Taeil both want to talk to you, but I told them to wait until you come home. You’re just here overnight, anyway – you collapsed after we hauled you into your bedroom. Exhaustion, the doctor said.”

It’s all a little too much for Jihoon and he starts crying. He can’t help it; it’s all too much at once and the light is suddenly blinding, the sheets too rough, and Kyung just sits with him, patting his hand gently, sighing quietly.

“I’m sorry.” Jihoon whispers.

Kyung looks at him dead in the eyes and shakes his head. “Don’t apologise. We’re family. We’ll get through this. It’s certainly not the worst thing that’s happened to us.”

Jihoon looks up and smiles, sensing an out. “That would be Jaehyo hyung’s cooking.”

Kyung cracks a grin at that, and they laugh, relieving some of the tense atmosphere, and with his head cleared and a friend by his side, he sees the light at the end of the tunnel.

//

His entrance to the dorm is a quiet affair – he sidles in while the others are out and is watching television in the lounge room when they get back. They all nod to him quickly, not entirely sure how to make him feel comfortable, and sidle off to their rooms – except Kyung, who flops down onto the lounge next to him, laying his head in Jihoon’s lap.

“Get off!” Jihoon laughs, elbowing him in the shoulder playfully.

  
Kyung smiles but doesn’t move. “You know, I wanted to have the stereo playing “Mental Breaker” when you got home. I thought it was appropriate. But they thought it was morbid.”

Jihoon doubles over laughing at that, accidentally smothering the older man, who shoves him off gently. “Or MTBD.”

The moment is nice; while Jihoon has never been super close to Kyung, not like he was with Taeil, their playful personalities mean they have a lot in common and get on like a house on fire. Besides, _someone_ had to step into the role of impromptu leader, and it couldn’t be Jiho or Taeil.

While they’re laughing, setting each other off over and over again, Jihoon looks up by chance and sees Taeil standing in the doorway, observing, his face an emotionless mask.

Immediately, he stops laughing, his mouth twisting down bitterly. Because, damn it, as much as he hates Taeil, _despises_ him for what he’s done, he knows that it’s completely illogical to, and is still head-over-heels for him.

They stare at each other for a while, not communicating, just looking – Taeil’s eyes are flicking around his face, checking for signs of fatigue, he’s sure. He doesn’t seem to be angry, or upset. He’s just nothing.

Jihoon looks back at the television, his chest hurting.

//

He rolls over and stares at the ceiling. He can’t sleep, and is desperately trying to ignore the sleeping pill sitting on his bedside table; it calls to him, but he doesn’t want to take it. He always wakes drowsy and slow the next day, and he needs all his wits about him to negotiate the minefield he’s created.

Because it’s his fault in the end, isn’t it? He knew from day one that Taeil didn’t like him in that way, only somewhere along the line their signals had gotten crossed and he’d begun reading into things that weren’t there.

Perhaps it’s because he was – and he hates saying this, hates _admitting_ it – sick. Maybe that was clouding his mind, his exhaustion and his nightmares making him read into things.

But that would be the easy way out, to blame his sickness for this. It’s all on him, Taeil has really done nothing wrong in the situation, as much as it hurts to admit. He has every right in the world to pursue a lover; Jihoon doesn’t dispute that.

He rolls back over and fluffs the pillow, desperately trying to get comfortable. He had let himself get sucked into the paradox, the impossibility that is Taeil, and he’d found out the hard way that paradoxes _just don’t work_.

Because now he knows, doesn’t he? What happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object? He knows the answer now.

Something breaks.

//

Months pass, and slowly, ever so slowly, things get better.

He hates that sentiment. It’s what the doctors told him, back in 2012, looking at his chart with kind, but tired eyes. “It gets better, Jihoon-ssi.” Well-meaning, but oft-repeated. It’s what they all told him. He stopped believing it after a while.

But things _did_ get better. He speaks to Jiho a few days after he’s home – nothing special, he just asks if Jiho wants a coffee, but the leader isn’t expecting it and jumps.

“A coffee?” He squeaks, mouth falling open in surprise.

Jihoon rolls his eyes. “Yes, a coffee.”

He’s acting nonchalant, but really, his heart is pounding and his mouth has gone dry. He doesn’t hate Jiho for what he did – how can he, when he’s a victim of Taeil as much as he is? Jiho has done so much for them all, so much for _him,_ that throwing away years’ worth of friendship on this seems silly.

Jiho nods and a smile creeps across his face, slowly – it looks like the sun’s coming out. “Okay. Thanks, Jihoonie.”

//

Jihoon sidles into the room, trying not to stare at the bed where he _knows_ Jiho and him – no, don’t think about that.

He taps on the door with a knuckle, smiling shyly, even if what he’s about to do makes him die a little inside. Taeil turns and smiles warily, not sure of what’s about to happen; they have spoken since the incident, hell, they’d even filmed a music video together, but something about their dynamic is off.

“Want to go shopping?” Jihoon asks, painfully aware that he is selling himself out, but he doesn’t really have the gall to be ashamed.

Because when Taeil leaps up from his chair, smiling so wide Jihoon swears he goes blind for a second, when Taeil runs over and flings his arms around Jihoon, pulling the younger man close, it feels so damn _right_ that even as Jihoon’s heart sinks, even as he knows he’s playing with fire, he grins back at the older man.

Perhaps Taeil isn’t an immovable object. Perhaps he’s a black hole, and the inevitability of Jihoon falling back into his orbit is as certain as the sun rises in the morning. Perhaps this is just the way it’s destined to be – Jihoon, always reaching, Taeil, always taking.

So, as he feels Taeil grab him by the wrist and pull him down the hallway, laughing and chattering away like nothing’s changed, he simply resigns himself to whatever shall happen.

Because this is the way it has always been, and this is the way it will always be.

**Author's Note:**

> Whoo, it's done. I hesitate to call this my Magnum Opus but... eh, I've worked on it so long... fuck it, it's my Magnum Opus.
> 
> The prompt for this one was kinda long: [[link]](http://i.imgur.com/JM4lKAQ.png)
> 
> I'm probably going to get some shit for this fic. People won't like how I've portrayed Jihoon, I don't think, but in all the Block B fics I've read (and written) I've never, not once, seen any references to his mental health, his breakdown, his diagnosis, so I decided to explore that in this fic. Jihoon fascinates me, and not only because I'm biased – he is obviously a very happy and cheery individual, never not smiling - but he obviously faces some serious demons, as we saw back in 2012. He keeps them hidden very, _very_ well, but they're there, and I always like picking away at layers to explore the person underneath. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this; it gave me more than a few headaches, and has been months in the making, so I hope it was worth it. A huge thank you as usual to everyone who reads <3


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